The Rise
by RallyPointBravo
Summary: The world as we know it is gone, yet life remains. There are no Guardians, there is no Tower. There are only Risen, and they are few in number. A lone Risen warrior must find his way through the ashes and not only survive, but forge the beginnings of a new world for those left to live in it. Possibly rated M in the future.
1. In Ruins

A crisp breeze swept across his face, dragging with it the scents of the surroundings. Leaves, crisping in the Autumn air. Weeds, fragrant and sweet. Smoke, acrid and stale from long and slow burns. Rot, from the death all around him.

He opened his eyes slowly, tentatively. He was met with a blinding white burning, and opted to keep them shut for a moment. He felt as if opening them once more would lead to the loss of his sight.

To compensate, he listened intently for a few moments to get some kind of non-visual bearing on his environment. There was nothing of note, the only audible noise was that of the breeze.

"…Hello? Human?"

The sound made him jolt and caused him to forget his aversion to sight as his eyes flew open, scanning with strained glances for the source of the noise. His eyes found the small, floating shape, with the blue light emanating from it's core, and felt somehow eased by it. Whilst he was unsure what exactly it was, there seemed to be something radiating from it that felt… Harmless.

"Hello, human," it repeated, in a decidedly female voice. It was distorted somewhat, robotic in nature. "This will be difficult to explain to you, and we must leave this place. I will have to tell you on the way."

The little object seemed to vanish from the visible spectrum, causing the man to search for it inquisitively.

"I'm still here. I'm going to be your guide. I'm what is colloquially known as a 'Ghost'. More specifically, I'm your Ghost. We need to get you to safety," she said in a concerned, almost motherly way. It struck him that he hadn't even spoken yet but was already being commanded by this small being.

However, he did feel rather vulnerable lying on the ground, and with great difficulty, forced himself up onto one knee, and inspected himself. Pale skin, two arms and legs, rather healthy looking in his opinion, and garbed in some sort of woven leggings and vest with a pair of armored boots.

"Sorry, I couldn't construct much better than that with the resources available," the Ghost explained, hovering over his shoulder. He tried to answer, but felt nothing but a dry rasp in his throat, as if he had never spoken before. Perhaps he hadn't.

"Oh, don't worry about speaking, it won't be easy for a few days at least. Again, I will explain," the Ghost chided, seemingly understanding of his plight.

Picking himself fully off the ground, he got a good understanding of his surroundings. It was an urban area, with tall, multi-toned buildings lining the wide street he was standing in. It seemed that the buildings stretched a long distance before and behind him, and followed the road; at least what was left of it. The buildings were all in some form of disrepair, with many holding large holes and destroyed sections within them, whilst others sported burned out or overgrown facades. The road was littered with vehicles, congesting the main pathway, and the vehicles were littered with corpses. Some relatively fresh, many reduced to bone. The only life that appeared aside from his Ghost were that of the scavenger avians that had begun cleaning the corpses of meat.

A sullen silence fell over the man, suddenly grasping the severity of the world around him. It felt familiar, at least in terms of the soil that he stood upon, but everything around him seemed so much more bleak and dead than his fuzzy memory could recall seeing before.

His Ghost had let him stare in wonder for long enough. "We need to get out of here, there are scavengers that will kill you should they find you," She disappeared again, but her voice remained in his head. "I will lead you to a safe place. You need to move."

* * *

He walked for a day and night, as it apparently wasn't safe anywhere he had been. The Ghost had told him all about these scavengers, the Fallen as she called them. It was difficult at first for him to understand that they were not of this world, that they had several arms and were filled with a gas of sorts, but in the end it hadn't really mattered all that much. He hadn't run into any of them yet.

He also had to take in the fact that he had been dead no less than a day prior, his bones a pile among many others, baking in the sunlight. He was from many years ago, the Ghost said, as were many others who had been revived by other Ghosts. 'Risen' seemed to be the term for those who were brought from the soil, at least according to his Ghost. Perhaps it explained the vague familiarity with the landscape.

Speaking of which, the floating companion had informed him that he was in the ruins of what had been known as France. It was among one of the only remaining areas in the world where there still existed some traces of humanity, and thus the only reasonable place to search for Risen.

"…In this region there had been a large commercial district, as you can see from the large buildings and machinery present…"

The Ghost was trying to give him as many answers to the few questions he had. In all honesty, he was growing tired of the constant expositing, but his throat wouldn't allow for much discourse on the subject. He coughed again, trying to coax his voice out once more, only to be met with the rasp of barely functioning vocals, and the Ghost turned to him in concern. He waved her off and she returned to speaking to herself.

It occurred to him at that moment that he was incredibly thirsty. The urban growth around him suggested that there wasn't enough water in the area to get a large being such as himself by, and with the near endless line of buildings ahead of him, he wasn't sure just how long he would be able to last before returning to the ground once more in a pile of bones.

The Ghost noticed him tossing his dry tongue about his mouth and affixed him with her optic. "We will get to a water source soon. Just please, keep moving. We're nearly there."

He nodded stiffly and continued on.

* * *

Another day and night had found the pair outside of the limits of the city, the urban landscape tapering off into a lush forest that had overgrown what little man-made creations resided beyond the perimeter of the city. Beyond the stiff confines of the concrete grid, it seemed as though life existed in bounteous quantity. There were sounds of birds and insects all around him, and the scents of so many different forms of vegetation filled his nose. There hadn't been a whiff of smoke in the breeze here.

He idly thumbed the latch of the satchel Ghost had found as he walked, collecting every so often a plant that the floating companion had determined was of nutritional value for him. The leather carrying device was filled with various different types of greeneries after only a few hours of trekking through the forest.

He ate as he walked, trying to absorb as much of the moisture content as he could to regain some saliva, as the dryness of his mouth was of great annoyance. The plants were hardly helpful, but they helped to dull the ache of his stomach.

Ghost said that the encampment she had frequented was only a few hours from his current location, but his fatigue was proving to be a hindrance to their schedule. Undead he may be, but unrelenting he was not. He had to make breaks every so often to regain his breath, or to relieve himself of some fluid. His Ghost was growing annoyed at his lack of urgency, but he hardly cared at this point. It wasn't as if she was experiencing this terrible journey in nearly the same physical manner.

In fact, he hardly had the strength to continue on even a few more steps, and the previous annoyance turned to sorrow as the Ghost scanned him and realized the severity of his condition.

"I'm sorry, but you really must continue. You're so close," she soothed, and although he heard the words, it was hardly any help as he tried to bring himself from the ground where he had collapsed. The words started to lose any meaning and the space around him grew dark as his breathing slowed, and eventually stopped.

…

Then he gasped a hearty breath as he was brought back from the abyss once more, clinging desperately to life. His Ghost had expanded in some strange display of light and shone her beam upon him, filling him with renewed strength.

He looked at his once more as he stood again, feeling the energy coursing through him, and then once more the feelings of dehydration coursed through his very being and he felt so much weaker.

"I'm sorry, but that was what a death feels like. I can't prevent death, I can only bring you back," the Ghost explained. "And even then I can't keep you healthy upon revival if I don't have the resources."

It occurred to him that perhaps he wouldn't want to be revived again, should he feel as pained and weak as he does now. He wasn't given much time to dwell on his recent brush with death as the Ghost floated past him in the direction they had been heading. Like a lost pet, he followed, fearing that she was the only one who could give him any of the answers he needed in the future, however short it may be.

* * *

It was evening when they spotted the camp in the distance. It was hard to make any of it out, as it was dimly lit and nestled between many trees and hidden under a small ridge, but it was there nonetheless. There were human forms moving about, some tall and wide, others small and scrawny. Children. Ghost advised him to be as non-threatening as he could be when approaching, showing him a clearing where he could approach in clear view. She would float over ahead of him. She said that these people were friendly, but cautious. He wondered what they could be fearful of from a man such as himself.

He did as he was instructed, standing in clear view as he watched the Ghost converse with what he assumed was the leader of the camp, a tall, dark skinned man who wore a pistol holster on his chest and the armor of a soldier of some sort, though it seemed he no longer represented any nation. The soldier waved him over and he slowly approached the camp.

Upon closer inspection, the camp was something akin to a large tent, a huge tarp between trees that housed around 15 people, sectioned and separate compartments for small groups of them, and in the center a fire pit. Small caches and carrying satchels lined the area, likely carrying essentials. The inhabitants of this small collective were keeping wary eyes on him, inspecting him as if he were a predator. He noticed a few of them carried small firearms on their hips, and decided not to approach them.

As he approached the soldier, he overheard Ghost tell him that he was suffering from dehydration. The soldier reached to his belt and unclasped a flask and tossed it to him, and he opened it with delight as he drank a healthy amount of the clear liquid.

"I can imagine that tastes good right about now, eh?" the man grinned, showing the lines of age on his face. He nodded in response.

"You can stay with us, Risen. You seem like a decent enough fellow, and we could use the extra manpower. What do you say?"

He cleared his throat and attempted once more to speak. "…ah… Auh…" The guttural sounds seemed to frighten the soldier a bit, but Ghost came over with a quick explanation.

"He hasn't yet got his voice back, but we accept. We would be happy to assist."

He nodded to give some credence to her claim, and the soldier seemed to be happy with the answer. He allowed him to keep the flask, and told him where he could park himself and his Ghost for the night.

"I'm Gordon, by the way. Corporal Gordon Fleischman." He offered his hand to shake, although he wasn't expecting a response from the man. He assumed that a speechless Risen hadn't yet found a name, and he was right in the assumption. The Risen man merely shook his hand and nodded, then set out to make himself comfortable in the section of tent that he had been allowed to stay in. As he zipped up the entry flap and boxed himself away, Ghost reappeared and spoke as he removed his boots.

"This is good, we've got you some people to work with now. We aren't safe though, we need to get further East to more Risen and proper settlements. That's where we will be able to do the most good."

He wasn't entirely sure what the 'most good' entailed, but he liked the sound of it. These seemed like good folk, and if he could help them get to a safe place, he would surely do what was in his power to get them there. For now, though, it was time to rest. He shut his eyes, loosened his tense shoulders, and fell into a light sleep.

* * *

**AN: Hey all. This is going to start a bit slower compared to a lot of other Destiny fics, as it's going to be establishing a lot of Risen-era happenings. If you couldn't tell, this takes place just a few months after the Ghosts are created, and thus there really isn't much of the Destiny infrastructure that we're used to. Expect this to be updated semi-frequently. **

**Until next chapter, **

**-Rally**


	2. Through Fire

He awoke to the sounds of screaming. Some were warbling, high pitched wails that could only belong to children, others deeper and masculine. Regardless, they roused him from his slumber and injected fear directly into his heart. He stood up as quickly as he could, the sound of Ghost disappearing assuring him that he was not alone, and quickly tore his way out of the tent flap.

What he saw as he exited his small tent could fuel nightmares for the rest of his life.

In the dark of the night, tall, rifle wielding monsters were tearing through the camp and the inhabitants, their extra pairs of arms allowing them to easily subdue their victims. The families he had seen in the evening had tried to fight back, but the monsters were far better than them in the art of war, and used crackling blades to cut through the adults, saving the bullets for the children. The tallest one, wearing a large cloak with foreign symbols on it, seemed to cackle in delight as it blew a hole directly through the soldier he had met, Gordon, tossing him to the ground as his body writhed in his death throes. The blue eyes of the monster turned to look at him, and rage overtook him.

He lunged towards the pack of monsters, not having anything but his fists, and swung at the nearest one, a somewhat smaller version of the pack leader. His fist connected with the helmet of it and it crumpled under the force of impact, emitting some form of gas as it fell to the ground. Quickly, he reached for the rifle in the dead one's arms before a large arm tossed him aside, throwing him several feet back and knocking the wind out of him.

The large one lumbered towards him, flaming rifle in hand, growling like a dog. He raised himself up once more, invigorated with rage, and attempted to make a strike on the large one's chest. His fist was easily stopped by the reflexes of the beast, and a return blow was issued from one of the free arms. He stepped backwards, dazed and bloody, allowing the creature an opportunity to fire the massive weapon into his chest. Once, twice, a few more for good measure.

He looked down at himself and saw the torn apart flesh and bone of his insides, the gaping hole that was where his organs once resided, and fell with a dull thud onto the dirt, his consciousness fading into oblivion.

* * *

It was bright when he was brought back once more. Instinctively, he touched his own chest, finding that the material of the vest was still broken, but the flesh beneath had been repaired fully. It was as if he had never been shot. He carefully brought himself into a sitting position as Ghost reappeared.

"I couldn't bring you back right away… The Fallen were in the area for hours after they…" she trailed off, sadness in her voice.

He looked around at the massacre around him. Blood and viscera, crumpled forms of the human bodies of all ages, and the smell of gunpowder. The supply cases he had seen in the evening had been knocked over, emptied out or haphazardly dumped here and there if they weren't to the liking of the scavengers.

Picking his aching body off the ground, he walked over to the corpse of the soldier, the man who had allowed him to stay with his group, and sighed. He looked at his Ghost, then to the man, as if asking her.

"I'm sorry… I can only resurrect you. Others… They don't have the light within them. At least not enough that I can bring them back. I'm sorry."

He nodded glumly and rasped out the words, "It's okay." He then reached to unstrap the pistol holstered on Gordon's chest, inspecting the revolver style of weapon he had chosen to keep for himself. He put the holster on himself and nodded.

After about an hour of scavenger through the camp, trying not to stare at the carnage, he had managed to get a pistol holstered on both hips, a heavy jacket that could do him well in cold climates, a few random pieces of body armor and protective clothing, and a large rucksack to accompany his satchel. A few dry meals and survival supplies had been left behind, which he eagerly scooped into his carrying bags. There was enough to last him a week or so, should he be disciplined in his consumption.

He briefly considered burying the people of the camp, but found that he could hardly look at the corpses before turning away in sadness. It wasn't right to leave them as they were, to be picked apart as carrion, but he couldn't bring himself to look at them any longer. He trudged away slowly, his Ghost leading the way.

* * *

They had been walking for a few days, leaving the dense forest behind for a tundra of sorts, and it had been near silent the whole trip. He had learned to use his voice, but seldom chose to speak. It had to be because of the camp. Ghost floated about his shoulders, trying to think of a way to bring him out of his stupor.

"I think you need a name," Ghost ventured, having not conversed with her Risen in a while. "You should pick one out for yourself."

The concept of a name had been rattling around in his head for a while, but in all honesty he had forgotten what a proper name for a being would be. "What would you suggest?" he responded, his voice still harsh but more sure of itself.

"I believe the best names are the ones that define your personality," she continued. "I haven't known you for terribly long, but you're something of a survivor in instinct, and you are strong." She was silent for a while.

He tried to break the silence. "Maybe something like Eric?"

She laughed lightly in her filtered voice. "I was thinking something more noble sounding, like Percival, or Rook, something a bit more… Well interesting."

He shrugged in response. He didn't particularly care for Percival, seemed a bit too narcissistic. Rook was alright. He didn't particularly feel that either was suiting of himself.

"How about…" he thought for a few moments, truly deeply as he tried assessing what he would feel matched his identity. "How about Connor?"

Ghost mulled it over for a few moments, rotating in thought. She gave the approximation of a shrug at the suggestion. "I like it."

He nodded. That was contentment enough for him. Although…

"… I think Dart would be a good name for you."

Ghost considered it for a moment, "Why Dart?"

Connor shrugged. "You dart around a lot, back and forth, real quick."

"I suppose that works for me. Connor and Dart."

Connor seemed to lighten up a bit at that, and Dart was satisfied that she had managed to bring some amount of levity to their situation once more. Hopefully, there would be more levity to come.

…

It had been two more days before the pair had gotten into view of where Dart told him to be heading. The giant, circular mass floating over the Earth sat in the air, almost as if it were sleeping, in the distance. The Traveler, Dart had called it. The source of Ghosts and the Light. It was a bit difficult for Connor to grasp all of these concepts, considering the only power of light he had witnessed was that of resurrection, but supposedly he would learn some kind of elemental power channeling. Supposedly.

Still, with the little understanding he had of the Traveler, it was a sight to behold, a giant and foreign power that seemed to draw him in. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

Not long after their first glimpse of the dormant god, they had encountered their first proper settlement. It was a small village, a place consisting of a few small buildings, but it was much more significant than the camp they had been in. People could be seen from afar, as well as some livestock and even what appeared to be a ship of some sort, although it looked as though it was in disrepair. A small stream of water ran opposite of the village, which he assumed was the primary reason for setting up here.

"It would be best if I stayed hidden. We don't know what this place is like, and we don't know if they are fond of Risen here." Dart seemed to have an edge of fear to her voice.

"I take it some aren't exactly kind with the gift of eternal life?" he ventured.

"You would be right. Some of the Risen take over villages, call themselves Warlords. It would be best if you didn't attempt the same."

Connor simply nodded. It seemed that even with a second chance at life, there were still those who chose to live a poor existence.

Dart dematerialized as Connor approached the village, opting for the same method of coming to it through a clear sight-line whilst trying to look as non-threatening as possible. This village however had something of a security detail and shouted for him to stop some distance from the perimeter. A pair of men, both wearing dark clothes and hefting long rifles in their arms, came to inspect him. They both locked their eyes onto his, scrutinizing him, however they were not necessarily intimidating considering how tall and stocky Connor was.

"You're gonna have to hand the pistols over, compadre. We aren't ones to trust newcomers with weapons," the taller of the pair explained. The other one simply nodded.

Sighing, Connor slowly pulled the revolvers from his hips, turning them around and offering the handles to the two men before him. Both of them took one and nodded politely in thanks. They then stepped aside and allowed him to pass. Connor obliged and entered the small village.

"Not very thorough in their checks," Dart whispered, causing her partner to mutter a quick hush as they continued through the town of sorts.

The buildings were old and worn, and most definitely falling into disrepair, but they served their functions well enough. A few appeared to be housing, whilst the most frequented building appeared to be a food store, judging from the smell. Feeling the ache in his stomach, he decided that would be his first stop.

The door to the establishment hinged open, revealing a densely packed kitchen and storefront, lined with tables and chairs. It appeared to be something of an all purpose trading post, with a kitchen attached. Connor wandered the storefront looking at the wares that were up for offer.

Rifles, armor, food, medical supplies, filters and gasmasks, a variety of tools, and all manner of useful accouterments lined the table, although Connor was not feeling like testing his luck with touching any of the items. One helmet in particular caught his eye, a dull grey with something of a slit visor, and what appeared to be a filtering system on the mouth. The shopkeeper noticed his interest and spoke in a quiet tone.

"That'll be a thousand glimmer, pal."

The phrase didn't seem to have meaning to him, and so he ventured to question. "Glimmer?" he asked cautiously.

The shopkeeper seemed annoyed at the question. "Glimmer, you know, programmable matter. The currency of the Dark age, they call it. You got any or are you just here to breath on my wares?"

Connor simply shook his head, and feeling a sense of shame, turned from the table of items and stepped out of the building. Somehow, he had a feeling that he was going to have a difficult time doing anything without this glimmer he spoke of.

"Glimmer is a tool and a currency, here in the frontier. I had to use some to build you those clothes that you so quickly ruined," Dart explained. "We currently own 30 glimmer. It might be enough to get you a bed for tonight."

He nodded tiredly and started towards one of the housing buildings. Inside he found an older woman standing behind a rotten wood desk, reading a book of some kind. She looked up at him and closed the book sullenly, giving him a gaze of reproach.

"Rooms are 25 glimmer a night," was her unrequited response, but Connor nodded meekly and reached into his satchel. Dart materialized the amount into his hand within the confines of the satchel, and when he pulled his hand from it exactly 25 glimmer was left on the desk. The woman nodded in mild satisfaction.

"Third door on the right," was all that she said before returning to her book. Connor merely nodded and headed towards the small hallway just past the desk. The hallway contained a number of doors, but he only inspected the one that supposedly now belonged to him. Grabbing the knob he creaked upon the old wooden door and entered the room.

His nose was immediately assaulted by the smell of rot, dust, and smoke that had clung to the walls. The room was small, holding only a single bed and a dresser within it, with a singular light with a pull chain dangling above it. Tugging on the chain washed the room in a dull, orange light. Connor sighed and sat himself on the bed as Dart reappeared.

"Well.. It beats sleeping on the dirt," she said sheepishly, noting his depressed mood.

"I guess so. Not exactly fine living though. And we can't even afford to sleep here of all places by tomorrow."

Dart whirred around the room, inspecting anything she could for entertainment. "Well, we could see if there's any work these people need done. I'm sure they'd be willing to pay us some glimmer for that. Besides, we can't exactly get much further without buying some supplies from these people."

Connor nodded dully and took his coat off, revealing his armpit strap holding Gordon's revolver. He carefully removed the weapon and placed it under the gnarled pillow of the bed. Not wanting to wake up in fear and forget his boots once more, he left them on as he laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling for a few moments before shutting his eyes and trying not to see the faces of the dead in the dark.

* * *

Connor was roused by a bit of a tingling sensation in the back of his mind. When he opened his eyes Dart was hovering above him, looking almost anxious.

"Sorry for waking you, but you were sleeping too long. The village is starting to get active and we need to find work," she adopted a nagging tone, and Connor merely nodded in response. He rolled out of the bed, inhaling deeply and catching one more good whiff of the horrid smells of the room, before retrieving his gun and coat and stepping out of the room.

Quietly stepping his way out of the building he finds himself back in the middle of the village, with the inhabitants going about their daily affairs. Some are carrying some forms of supplies and tools, others heading to the ship he had spotted earlier to attempt repairs with their limited tech. The dark clothed and rifle carrying protectors were also wandering about the village, and he figured they would be one of the better people to ask about work. Cautiously, he approached the nearest pair of guards, a tall woman and a young man.

"Hey look, it's that guy from yesterday," the woman said, nudging her companion with her rifle butt to get his attention. "What do you want, pal?" she asked gruffly.

"Lookin for work," was his soft reply, not wanting to give off any attitude. The woman seemed to soften at his words.

"Well, if that's the case, we got plenty of that. You good at anything in particular?"

Connor had to take a moment to think. It wasn't as if he had done much of anything but walk since he was resurrected, but that wasn't exactly a work skill. Although, he had managed to kill one of those alien scavengers with his fist…

"Good at fighting," he replied, thumbing both of his empty holsters to make a point. The guards eyed him suspiciously and the woman nodded. She smirked slightly at him, somewhat impressed at how direct he was.

"Well… We have been having a lot of run-ins with the Fallen lately. They got a bit of an encampment in the East, not too far from here. Not more than eight, but they got a Captain in their ranks. If you could clean em' out, we'll pay you a good deal. Hell, we can even send a couple guys with you, we need em' gone as much as you need cash."

Connor thought about it for a moment. He did indeed want to get back at those monsters for what they had done to Gordon's folks… But he wasn't exactly combat tested, and eight of them seemed a large number to start with. However, he could feel in the back of his mind that Dart wanted him to accept, and the prospect of getting some much needed glimmer out of it was enough to make him nod his head.

The woman smiled. "Great, we'll give you your guns back when we leave Creek," she explained. He assumed this place was Creek, given that he hadn't really heard anyone calling it by anything, but considering the small stream that ran parallel to the village, it seemed a fitting name. "I'll talk to Bart about it, he'll meet you at the gate in say… An hour? Just be ready for him. You'll know him when you see him. He's tall."

Connor simply nodded and decided it would be a decent idea to wander the remainder of the village he had yet to see. There was a storehouse, a building that served as something of a prison or jail, and a small shed that held something between an armory and a service station for weapons. Behind that shed, there was a small closed off area that held a bunch of crosses in the dirt. He could assume what that was, and was saddened by how many crosses he saw at a glance. He was about to go sit and wait for this Bart by the edge of town when he felt a tug at his sleeve. He looked down and found a small girl pulling on it.

"Mister, you're that man that came into town yesterday, right?" the quizzical and innocent gaze of the young girl was enough to make him smile. He crouched down to be somewhat closer to her height.

"That's right, that was," he cleared his throat, trying to make the raspy nature of it less noticeable to be less frightening to the child. She didn't seem to matter. "That was me."

She smiled and shook his hand without asking. "Welcome to Creek! We don't see many new people here. I'm Emily," she practically beamed up at him, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you Emily. I'm Connor," he answered. She seemed to like the name. He could feel in the back of his mind that Dart was giggling to herself during the whole exchange, but it didn't matter to him. This was the first light-hearted discussion he'd had with someone that wasn't a Ghost.

"Mister Connor, I have to go, my mom is making angry faces at me," she said, a bit of a pout in her voice. "I'll see you later though!" she took off, running past him before he could even answer her. He turned to see the mother in question with a dark expression on her face, obviously unhappy with how eager her daughter was to converse with a total stranger. It likely wasn't a good habit for her, but he couldn't help but smile to himself after the encounter.

He stood himself up, wiped some dirt off his kneepad, and started towards the gate where he had been told to meet his company.

* * *

**AN: Hey all, long chapter here. Trying to worldbuild while also moving forward a somewhat slow paced plot is kind of difficult, so I could use some tips on how to smooth it all out. Thanks fo reading, R&R if you feel like it. Till next chapter, **

**\- Rally**


	3. By Force

He stood at the edge of the settlement, tapping on his leg and staring out into the distance to pass the time. It didn't take too long for him to hear the sound of several footsteps, and glancing behind he noticed that it was indeed very easy to notice Bart.

Whilst he was tall, Bart appeared to be at least a head above him, with a broad build. If that wasn't enough, his unique facial hair was distinctive enough. A short but thick beard, halved at the chin by a smooth patch of shaved skin. The large double-barreled shotgun he had slung across his back seemed overkill, considering how intimidating he was without it. He sized Connor up in an instant, then smirked.

"You're the one we're hunting with?" he questioned, a mild amusement in his voice. Connor shrugged.

"I'll be hunting with you when I get my guns back."

The answer seemed to please him as his partner, the same woman guard from earlier reached into her rucksack and removed the pair of mismatched revolvers, handing them to him. He nodded thanks and took them, holstering them on either thigh.

"Never caught your name," he said casually to her.

"Miranda," she said brusquely, "Yours?"

"Connor."

She nodded and looked back to Bart, who shrugged his shoulders lightly and started walking out of the camp. Miranda followed close behind, keeping her rifle close to her shoulder for safety. Connor fell in line, feeling the polymer handles of his weapons for comfort as they walked through the flat but lively terrain.

The pair of settlers were not great conversationalists, seemingly communicating via glances and small facial gestures. The subtleties were lost on him, walking a few paces behind them. It intrigued him that they were trusting enough to let him walk behind, but from the look that Bart gave him every so often, it almost seemed he was inviting the challenge.

Somehow, Connor didn't feel like meeting the challenge, instead choosing to drum his fingers on his pistol grips and observe the landscape around them change. The flat clearing that Creek was located on slowly turned to another sparsely filled forest, which grew to be colder the further they walked from the settlement. Miranda pulled her scarf over her face for warmth. Connor wished he had something of the sort.

The trio spent another hour or so walking before Bart halted them with a raised hand, then crouched down before going any further. Miranda obliged and followed in a similar manner, and Connor chose not to protest as he squatted down.

The pair caught up to Bart on the crest of a ridge, where he had taken the shotgun off his shoulder and gripped it in his hands as he surveyed the area. Connor pulled his right holstered pistol out as he too inspected his prey.

It was a small, circular camp, cobbled together from various other camps judging by the non-uniformity of any of the components; a few blue containers, a few orange, tarps of mismatching colors. There were a pair of monsters stoking the fire, although they seemed to be smaller than the ones he had seen. Another creature with four arms wandered the camp, rifle in hands. An odd trio of hovering machines also existed in the camp, and judging by the long protrusions on the lower part of the chassis, they were armed. Finally, the largest of the beasts came into view, stocky and strong compared to his comrades, with a large flowing blue cape. He stood in a relaxed state, simply observing the rest of his men.

Bart seemed to be in a sullen silence, likely planning the attack in his mind. Miranda merely waited for her orders. Connor once more checked his ammo, making sure he had a filled weapon. All eight rounds were accounted for.

"Get to the far side of the camp," Bart whispered to him. "We'll make some noise here. You can take them out quietly from that end."

Connor shrugged. It seemed reasonable enough to him. Nodding to his partners, he quietly made his way down the ridge and slowly sneaked his way over to the further part of the camp. It took him a few minutes, making sure not to get within the sight of the rifle-wielding one. When he found himself something of a vantage point behind the camp, he looked up to the pair on the ridge and nodded.

That seemed to be enough for Bart, raising his shotgun quickly and blowing a large hole in the rifle-wielder, sending him sprawling across the ground. Miranda fired a quick burst from her rifle, sending a small one down in a spray of blue blood as the rest of the Fallen got to cover. The large caped one produced a flaming weapon, the same one that killed Connor previously, from his belt and started firing on the settlers. The small one produced some kind of pistol, whilst the floating machines cracked shots off towards the duo. With all of the remaining enemies distracted, it was time for him to make his play.

Connor hadn't fired his weapon before. He hadn't killed before. So it was remarkable to him when he raised the revolver and leveled it at the head of the small one, that when the shot cracked out and left the barrel, he hit true and precise in the skull of the alien, causing it to burst with gas as the headless corpse hit the ground. Readjusting his aim, he fired a quick pair of shots at the machines, taking the nearest one down as it dropped to the ground, unable to function. The large one finally caught on to the ambush, and turned himself around to focus on Connor.

His partners poked back up from their cover, taking out the remaining drones with only a few shots, leaving the large beast as the sole survivor. Bart reloaded his weapon as Miranda peppered it with rifle fire, but it shrugged the shots off. Connor noticed some kind of blue aura surrounding the monster.

"It's shielded," came the explanation from Dart in the back of his mind. "It'll take a lot of rounds to break the shield."

Connor was all too aware of how little ammunition he had, and looked for an alternative. Among the corpses of the aliens, small stick-like grenades hung from their belts. That would work.

The beast moved with surprising quickness towards Connor, forcing him to roll forwards, into the camp, to avoid being killed once more. The shots missed him entirely, but the outstretched arm of the giant caught him around the throat. It raised him up to eye level as it inspected him, adjusting it's weapon to fire on him as he kicked and squirmed to break loose.

The beast was briefly distracted by the rifle fire from Miranda, but it stopped paying her any mind when it realized how little she was doing to his shields, instead choosing to relish in the kill. However, Miranda was merely a distraction.

Bart charged in from the creature's flank, moving with the speed and mass of a freight train as he tackled the monster to the ground, forcing it to release Connor. Connor was tossed aside, struggling to find breath as Bart forced the monster onto it's back, then brought his fists down onto it's chest with as much force as he could muster. The shielding groaned, then it shrieked, and as the alien tried to grab his arms with one of it's own, his fists crackled with electricity as he brought them down once more, bursting the shielding in a display of blue light.

The force of the shielding shattering threw Bart off the beast, allowing it to stand and roar, drawing a pair of wickedly long blades from it's belt and igniting them in electric light. Miranda, now with a clear shot at her target, fired a long, uncontrolled burst, but the monster was in a rage, no longer feeling the pain of the rounds tearing through it as it approached Connor, blades held high.

Connor had lost his revolver in the fall, but quickly unstrapped his second pistol from his left leg and fired once, twice, thrice. A fourth round connected on the beast's mask and it faltered in it's advance, seemingly shaken by the head trauma, but recomposed itself and tried to bring the blades down on Connor. He closed his eyes in fear, but the sound of blades slicing was interrupted by the sound of a loud pair of shots. Connor felt blood run down his face, hot and thick, before he opened his eyes to see a hole in the center of the large creature.

The light dimmed in the monster's eyes until they faded to black, causing the huge being to fall to the side, lifeless. Connor took a gloved hand and wiped the blue blood from his face, grimacing. Bart stared him down for a moment before erupting in joyous laughter. It earned him a pair of confused stares from Miranda and Connor, but it seemed he didn't care.

"What a show that was!" he bellowed, gesturing to the emptied camp. "We picked ourselves up a fine shot. Not the brightest fellow though."

Connor huffed to himself at the assessment, but he didn't disagree. He had gambled pretty hard there, and it nearly cost him. But that was not what was weighing on his mind after what he had just witnessed.

"You… What the hell did you do with your hands?" Connor questioned, seemingly affixed by him.

Bart seemed to tense a bit, realizing that it wasn't nearly as inconspicuous as he had wished. "I bashed his shield apart," was his confident answer.

"Just give it up Bart, he saw it with his own eyes. Big deal," Miranda chided as she approached, looking no worse for wear. Bart seemed to deflate slightly as he slung his weapon over his shoulder again. Without words, a teal plated Ghost appeared from behind him, silently whirring next to his head.

Connor simply stared at the man and his Ghost, then looked down at his own hands as if they would suddenly start sparking with electrical power too. Bart seemed perplexed by his reaction until Dart decided to reveal herself over his shoulder. Bart seemed to relax slightly at the sight of a Ghost.

"Ah. Now it all makes sense," Bart chuckled to himself, whilst Miranda seemed to glare at Dart. "I suppose this is the part where you want your glimmer?"

Connor finally brought himself to his feet and nodded. Dart drifted towards the other Ghost, seemingly to converse with it in some way. The pair of Ghosts disappeared together in a matter of moments. "Strange," Bart said. "Never seen them do that before."

The supplies that the Fallen camp had collected were various and invaluable. Medical supplies and food were the majority of it, but it appeared that they had the desire to collect glimmer themselves, as they had a large stockpile of it, somewhere near 5 thousand stored between the lot of them. Bart had his Ghost scan the supplies, and with a flash of light they disappeared. He saw the perplexed look on Connor's face and smiled.

"Transmat. I can get my Ghost to send things elsewhere as if they were nothing more than data, provided I have a destination set in mind. The closest thing we have in Creek is that broken down ship, so we send our transmat items through there."

The explanation didn't really make sense to Connor, but he understood the basic concept of what was going on so he just nodded. He felt strangely at ease with his fellow Risen, as if he was no longer in as great of danger with another immortal at his side. Aside from that, he seemed like a decent man, and he'd saved him during that fight.

* * *

As the trio headed back for Creek, Connor did his best not to ask questions of his fellow Risen, instead speaking with Dart a few paces behind his partners.

"You didn't tell me Risen could do that."

Dart whirred in front of him, blocking some of his view. "That's because you can't use them yet. You've not been near enough the Traveler to draw in the light necessary for it," she explained, trying her best not to sound exasperated. "Soon enough you'll be able to manipulate light crudely. Eventually you'll have the power to do all sorts of things, or so I've heard."

Connor seemed satisfied with the answer, albeit unhappy that he was yet to control any unnatural powers. However, he found himself perplexed once more by what had happened.

"Why was I so good with a gun?" he asked, feeling the handle of his pistol once more for comfort.

"Ghosts look for people who were warriors in their past lives. From what I could gather, you seemed to be a soldier of some sort."

Again, another explanation that made sense, but wasn't entirely soothing to his hurting mind. Had he been brought back as nothing more than a weapon? Was his whole purpose just to shoot things in service of a giant ball?

Moreover, he was mulling over just how easily he had ended the lives of those creatures. Granted, they may not have been the most noble or pure of heart, but at the end of the day, they lived and breathed just as he, and he had not thought twice before sending lead through them. It was… Concerning to say the least.

His thoughts would have to wait as they approached Creek once more. The pair of perimeter guards nodded to Bart and Miranda, and gave Connor somewhat of a warmer welcome than he had previously received. They still asked that he hand over his weapons once more, and he obliged, but the vitriol he had felt behind their words was no longer present. It seemed that having a good relationship with Bart proved to bring him into higher standing with the rest of the guards.

"Nice haul you brought back, should help out big time," one of the guards said, clapping Bart's shoulder. The large man simply smiled and walked past him, splitting off from his hunting companions wordlessly. Miranda turned to Connor and offered him a hand.

"Thanks for helping out. You made things a lot easier on us," she said. Connor reached out and shook her hand, nodding silently. She turned and walked towards one of the housing buildings, leaving Connor alone once more, but with a large amount of glimmer burning a hole in his pocket, and an empty stomach calling his attention.

* * *

Dart had started to converse with him through his mind. She was hesitant at first, not wanting to intrude on his thoughts, but eventually she felt him at ease with her presence in the back of his head, and slowly he learned how to converse with her.

So as he stood in front of the storefront, eyeing the wares, she told him what they absolutely needed, what he could afford, and what they should save for. They had been in town for a few days now, getting odd jobs here and there, and earning more than enough glimmer to survive and buy the things they needed. That's why Connor had shed the heavy coat for a duster, which allowed him more movement and ease of reaching his guns, as well as a dull black scarf. Connor seemed to be something of a Western fan, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, his previous life bleeding through ever so slightly.

"You should get some more food," Dart said softly in his mind. "It doesn't hurt to have spare supplies." Connor agreed with her there.

"I'll take three rations and twenty .357 rounds," he said, drawing out the last word as he considered buying something else. "And… Throw in a couple first aids."

The shopkeeper, who had come to appreciate him a bit more since he had become a spender, obliged and brought the items to the front of the counter. "180 glimmer."

Connor nodded and pulled a handful from his satchel. He had asked Dart to program them to stick to stacks of ten and twenty, and she had obliged. He pulled a few sticks of glimmer from his hands and offered them up to the shopkeeper, who nodded and waved a hand, letting him take the things. Connor scooped them into his satchel casually, then turned to exit the building.

He walked into the center of the town, nodded to Mark and Sophie, the guards on duty. He had made an effort to get acquainted with anyone who held a gun in town, just to be sure he wouldn't have any trouble should it come to it. He himself was still not allowed to carry guns, although he suspected that wouldn't be for much longer. Besides, he still had Gordon's revolver strapped to his chest for safety. He briefly mused that revolvers seemed to be the only sidearm available in these times, and wondered if in the so called Golden Age if they too, wished to be cowboys.

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar little tug on his sleeve, and looking to his side he found the young girl, Emily he believed, who had shown him kindness on his first day in Creek.

"Mr. Connor! Have you killed any bad Fallen today?" she questioned, no malice in her tone. She seemed genuinely intrigued by the prospect of the aliens no longer being around.

"Can't say I have, sweetie. So far it's been a one time thing," he explained, crouching down next to her as he had before. "Although, I will say that I wouldn't mind it being a more common occurrence."

That seemed to please her, putting her hands behind her back and smiling. "I think you're going to be a good helper here! You can help Uncle Bart keep the bad aliens in their holes!"

Connor continued listening to her ranting, happy to indulge in some conversation with someone who seemed to not have many indulgences in her life. Her words started fading out of his hearing as he thought he detected something else. Almost imperceptibly soft, like a fan blowing in a wind storm, but he heard it all the same. Connor looked up, and saw nothing but sky.

The cloaking technology on the ship above quickly turned off, showing the bulky, dull tan of the strangely alien craft, the bottom of the hull dotted with strange circular holes. Connor would have simply stared if he hadn't noticed the twin cannons swiveling about at the bottom of the craft, turning towards…

He lunged for Emily and wrapped his body around her, flinging them towards the shop building. He just barely heard the first scream as the cannon fired it's heavy electrified payload, scorching through the sky before hitting him in the spine in a blinding flash. The world grew dark instantly.

* * *

**AN: Trying to bring a little bit more action into the story, but first we have to show how weak a Risen is when they first come to. Fear not, this will not be the standard for how strong a light-bearer can grow in this story, but it's a baseline for how they will typically start out. The player Guardian, I believe, was a bit of an exception to this process. Connor most definitely is not. Please feel free to R&R, and again, until next chapter.**

**\- Rally. **


	4. In Embers

Blinding pain coursed through his body as he slowly regained consciousness. It was as if a thousand crackling blades had torn through his back all in the span of an instant, carving, no, melting a hole through him. Dart managed to bring him back, and largely in one piece, but he was still in severe pain as the wound healed. He had to get up.

He looked in his arms to check on Emily. She was unconscious, but a cursory look at her showed that she seemed uninjured. He painstakingly brought her behind the counter of the shop to keep her hidden. His hearing started coming back to him, and with it the sounds of terrified shrieks, alien war cries, and the distinct rattling of automatic gunfire. He pulled the revolver from his chest strap and turned to exit the building.

Outside the world seemed to be crumbling before him. The buildings were set alight, burning with fierce flame as the large ship hovered overhead, firing every so often at a settler firing back. In the street he saw bodies; Fallen and human together, although more human than Fallen. The pack of them were pushing the remaining survivors back towards the edge of town where the broken space craft resided, and it seemed that the alien ship chose not to fire at what could potentially be salvaged. He spotted Bart firing his weapon from behind the craft and felt a fury consume him.

_I will not let this place fall._

He fired into the crowd of enemy combatants, a strange black ball-like entity with a purple gaze was his first target, taking a pair of shots in the center before falling to the ground, sparking. A pair of smaller ones looked to him before earning themselves fresh breathing holes in their throats. A pair of tall, cloaked ones turned and fired their large weapons at him, forcing him to find cover by the nearest building. He took the chance to reload, filling his weapon to the max capacity of 5 rounds before poking his head out once more, peppering the crowd of aliens with gunfire. It hadn't much of an effect.

"I've got something that could help," Dart said, trying to keep her calm in the confines of his head. An orb materialized at Connor's hip, and he grasped it firmly, feeling a button at the top. He pushed it and recognized what it was as it gave off a dull beep. He tossed it into the crowd and watched as a burst of flame exploded within their ranks, killing a few weaker ones and severely burning one of the largest ones. He popped out of cover and fired as he ran, trying to make it towards the remaining survivors.

One of the smaller ones had watched him leave cover, and took it's long, electrified spear into one hand and threw it as a javelin at Connor. Having not seen the attack coming, it struck true in his thigh, earning a shout of pain from the Risen and forcing him to fall under the now helpless leg. Connor screamed and pulled the spear out of his leg with the tenacity of a wounded predator, tossing aside the weapon and dragging himself behind a supply crate. He rested his back against the temporary cover and reached into his satchel, fetching a first aid package and wrenching out a syringe full of adrenaline, shoving it right into his own chest. Dart came out quickly and hit his leg with a few seconds of her healing ray, enough to mend the bone and a layer or two of muscle before he put his leg back to work and pushed out of his cover. He fired wildly as he ran towards the broken craft, then slid to a halt once he had found safety behind it.

Bart stood tall behind the cover, but the others who had followed him were not so lucky. The guards that were with him had either been wounded or died, guns in hand behind him. Miranda sat against the ship, holding her guts in from what he assumed was a slash from a blade. She coughed weakly and looked at Connor pleadingly. He wrenched his satchel from his shoulder and tossed it to her as he stood up and helped Bart thin the crowd. It didn't seem that the waves of enemies were going to stop coming, as more of the creatures descended from the holes in the ship, spewing more energized shots towards them. Bart fired twice more before he was empty, and tossed his weapon aside. He shouted at Connor and it took him a moment to register that he was being addressed.

"You! Follow me! We can take them!" he shouted, nearly growling between words. Connor watched as Bart's hands began glowing with energy, then it seemed as though the electrical charge had crawled all the way up his arms, into his body, and shot out of his legs as he jumped over the cover they had been using. Connor simply followed the order and ran out from behind the craft, firing at every target he could make out.

Bart smashed through their front line, his electrically charged punches connecting with one monster but spreading the feedback of lightning to several more, killing them instantly. He ran at one of the tall ones, sending a knee straight into it's face and caving the creature's skull inward, before turning towards another weakling and smashing it into dust. Connor fired at the ones that were out of his range, taking out his enemies indiscriminately and with no regard for accuracy. It seemed as though they could turn the tide of the fight.

The Fallen must have sensed that feeling themselves, as within moments of the second large one being crushed in electrically charged bashes, the twin cannons pointed down towards the Risen, and sang their heavy bass blasts for several seconds. The explosions that the shots caused killed Connor instantly.

The shots had sent his corpse a fair distance from his place of death, as when he awoke next he was on the opposite end of the street, back near the shop. He barely noticed Dart disappear once more as he tried to get up from his back. His body was in so much more pain, especially now that the adrenaline had left him with his last life. He lifted the revolver still in his hand, and found that he now only owned a smoldering hunk of metal with a wooden handle. He angrily tossed it aside and tried to force himself upward to no avail. His body wasn't functional enough to permit standing yet, he had to wait a few more moments as Dart tried her hardest to get him moving once more.

He saw across the street that Bart was being revived, and even with his hazy, death glazed eyes he could see just how horribly Bart had been maimed. His skin must have been melted off, as he could see the muscle beneath and his cheekbone showed on his face. He sluggishly moved as his Ghost floated around him, rebuilding him on a cellular level. He had almost been restored enough to fight when a shot cracked out, and his Ghost flickered in the distance before a soft clink was heard as it fell to the ground. Bart tried to raise his arm for a punch but the arm of one of the smallest ones grabbed his wrist and twisted so that his forearm was no longer facing the right direction.

The beasts forced him to his knees, waiting for one of their larger comrades to come over, saber in hand. It stared down at Bart for a moment, watching with something near cruel interest as he looked up at them, offering no words or actions. His arm hung worthlessly at his side, and Connor could now see the other one had not been put back on after the blast.

Connor exerted all of the power in his body, every last morsel of strength to attempting to get up, to save Bart who had saved him not even a week prior, but he simply couldn't. His muscles were unable to even let him crawl towards the scene, and before he could ask Dart for another grenade, the saber had cut through Bart with a single, swift slice. His body fell to the ground, motionless, right next to his Ghost. Connor choked on his shock, on his anger, sorrow, and pain combining to form a lump in the back of his throat, only letting him make a pained and rage filled primal growl, tears forming in the creases of his eyes.

The creatures noticed the noise and turned their attention to him, his ruined body lying face up on the ground, covered in burns and melted flesh. He raised his hand, as if he could shoot them with his emotions through his palm and growl again with trembling breaths. The one that killed Bart seemed to chuckle, drawing it's blade once more. He could feel Dart in the back of his mind, and she whispered to him in an anguish filled voice.

"I'm not waking you up until they're gone."

The blade came down and he was absorbed by the darkness once more.

* * *

When he awoke next, the screaming agony in his body was there to greet him in an instant. As he opened his eyes, he found himself under a massive pile of debris. Wood, twisted metal, and various scraps of other materials forced him to stay on the ground. Shifting his arms to his chest, he slowly shoved the mass of material upwards, managing to make some of it slide off the top. Eventually, it was light enough for him to push from himself, freeing him.

He slowly sat up, dusting himself off and looking around. He wished he hadn't. All around him, there was smoking debris and rubble. There was barely any indication that there was ever a settlement here. The bodies, thankfully, seemed to be hidden, so he didn't have to look at the faces of those he failed.

_He failed._

He raised himself from the ground and looked around, then checked his body for his things. His satchel was still on him, and surprisingly hadn't been destroyed. His pistol was still a broken hunk of iron, and his clothing was burned and torn, with a large hole in the back of his duster where the blast had struck him.

He realized that the ruins that he had been left in were the shop, and immediately he started looking for the little girl that he had left within it. He struggled with shoving the wooden beams aside, searching the large pile for what he approximated was the storefront, but only found a few of the wares that were on the counter.

"Emily?" he ventured, hoping that if she were in there, she would respond. He received nothing in response. Dart solemnly appeared at his side.

"I scanned the whole area when they left… I didn't get any life readings here."

Connor's shoulders sagged as he stared at the ground, at the cinder and ash under the broken beams and walls. Is this what being a Risen meant? Fighting for scraps and waiting for those scraps to be burned to the ground?

Dart slowly floated over the debris, scanning for anything that survived the destruction and might be of some use. Connor silently followed, collecting anything that she found. A handful of bullets, a knife with a wooden handle, and a few more rations. Connor had found the helmet he had admired previously, seemingly no worse for wear, and knocked on the dome with a knuckle, testing it. Shrugging, he shook it off and put it on his head. It seemed like it had some electronic components to it, but there was no power source and merely provided protection at the moment. It worked well enough for him.

Connor collected himself and walked towards the broken space craft, noticing how it hadn't been destroyed, but torn apart, likely for parts. The bodies of the fighters were still there, the weapons and gear stripped from their bodies. He sighed and turned, looking out to the horizon, to the Traveler, and wondered how such a being, such a god, could allow this to happen.

A cough stirred him from his thoughts and he turned suddenly, drawing the knife when he realized the cough came from one of the bodies. A head turned towards him and he sheathed it once more. Miranda slowly opened her eyes and looked at him.

Crouching down, Connor started rummaging through his satchel as Dart appeared and scanned her for her injuries. She had been heavily wounded the last time he saw her, but she seemed like she could survive. Dart spoke allowed to let them both hear it.

"She's bleeding internally. She needs our medical supplies, and we need to get her out of here."

He nodded and pulled the remaining syringe and compression bandages, cleaning her midsection of the mud and grime she had collected in battle and applying the medical supplies. She seemed to whisper something and reached for his shoulder, but he hushed her and brought her arm down softly.

"Where do we take her?" Connor questioned, unsure of whether there really was anywhere he could take her. Creek was the only place he had seen in a ten mile radius.

"…We could try that Fallen camp we cleared. It's the only place that's close enough and shelter enough for her."

Connor was unsure. "What if they took it over again?"

Dart wavered a bit and whispered, "It's all we've got."

He nodded and looked at Miranda, taking the pistol from her hip. It wasn't a revolver, so his ammo wouldn't work with it, and checking the magazine it only held four rounds. Hopefully they wouldn't need to use it. He slid it into his right hip holster and tried to carefully lift Miranda to her feet. She shakily stood, but as soon as he tried to coax her into stepping, she nearly collapsed. Connor caught her, but he knew that it wouldn't work this way. Sighing, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the town, towards the camp they had been sent to a few days prior.

* * *

**AN: So, I hope you're starting to understand this isn't the most light-hearted of stories. Don't worry, this isn't just a story of constant loss, but I needed to establish how life is hanging in the balance for most people post collapse. We'll see how things go in the future. Till next time,**

**\- Rally. **


End file.
